


War of Seconds

by orphan_account



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Runeterra, C9 centric, Converging Story Arcs, Ensemble Cast, Gods, M/M, War, but mostly jensen/sneaky, dark meteos, light sneaky, others appear though, slight meteos/sneaky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As Runeterra prepares for her seventh civil war, questions rise over a lack of memories of the sixth, and the reason for the fighting.Meanwhile, Sneaky finds that the pillars supporting him have crumbled, and the disillusionment washing in leaves him without understanding of his life. Jensen holds his hexal crystal close and wonders why he's lost all his memories, rather than the few missing from everyone. Whether it's friends, enemies, or gods who know, he will find them and wrest his answers back.Despite the war that they must be a part of, the two journey across Runeterra in search of what they have lost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Runeterra AU where the players have the abilities of champion(s) signature to them. Takes elements from past LCS splits and the in-game lore. 
> 
> I'm not going to reveal who has the powers of who, even if most of them should be obvious, because some of them would be spoilers. Some characters aren't on their most famous champions for plot-related reasons. However, if you're confused, ask so I can try to answer without spoiling.
> 
> Also, if you would prefer their real names to their in-game names, tell me so that I can change it. I went with the names I did because it's going to feature a lot of characters and I don't know if everyone knows all the names.

Sneaky pulled his cloak tighter, threw his hood on, and slipped out of the farthest of C9’s safehouse cabins. The frigid wind hit him immediately, and the delay of the sound of the door shutting made him hesitate, the split-second not moving immediately making him impatient.

Most factions wouldn’t send their leaders on supply runs, especially ones that would last multiple days, but they were more equals than anything, and more importantly, everyone wanted desperately to enjoy the world while the peace lasted. They were all using the guise of performing menial but necessary tasks for more personal purposes. Wander aimlessly, explore someplace far from home. Visit old friends.

And in between all of that, prepare fortresses for war, stock up on weapons, munitions, and food, ready strategies and tactics for offence and defence, forge alliances, gain intel on the others.

It had been awhile since there had been any fighting. It was nice. But then, once the harmony was stretched into tearing, they would have no idea of the strength of any others. No matter how strong they felt they were, they could be ants or gods in comparison. Everyone was ready for war. There was more misdirect than fact. They couldn’t know where they stood until it began, and even then, he knew that the most pivotal truths would only be revealed at the most pivotal moments.

It didn’t help that nobody could remember what happened in the last war.

What little they gleaned from the remainders was shaky at best. There must have been something big. Nobody knew who won, even if it was clear who ended up worse off by the end. Several factions were displaced from where they last remembered themselves to be located, but with forts and bases built that they knew fully. He himself had memories and keepsakes to prove that C9 used to be in Ionia, and the rest of his faction agreed, for the most part, but here they were, with a fortress and a complex network of tunnels and cabins sprawled across the frozen landscape. They had perfect reasoning behind the location was perfect as well. It made so much sense but it was still so wrong.

The more he thought about it, the scarier it was, so he stopped.

He didn’t know how long he had been trekking through the snow. The storm was worsening. He hated the Freljord for what it was as much as he loved it for what it meant to him. Sometimes, he wished he had followed the others to Piltover oh-so long ago, but when the nostalgia let up, he knew that staying was the better choice.

It was all logical, of course. Piltover neighboured Zaun, and though it bordered the ocean, it lacked protection against assaults from it. Worse still, it was locked in by mountains with the clearest path giving Noxus an easy siege. C9’s strongest fighters had to defend their only way out in case they lost the northern part of Runeterra, but they also needed to keep control of the advanced technological developments of Piltover and Zaun.

Even if he had more experience with the older members than their young blood, he knew he was a better soldier than them.

Those were, of course, his only reasons.

He turned suddenly, bow slipping from his shoulder into his hands, and he let fly an arrow. A strange, golden creature toppled, several dozen metres behind him. He turned and went to examine it, already knowing it was one of Aphromoo’s meeps. There was nothing interesting about it in and of itself, but he felt a tightening worry knowing that other factions were already trying to gather information. He kicked some snow over it and continued through the ice.

* * *

He push aside a slab of rock and stepped over a heap of rubble. Glancing at the silverish, glistening threads lining the stone slabs of the demolished church, he frowned, beginning to think that he hadn’t found what he was looking for, and when he inspected further and found no chimes, he turned to leave.

He hesitated mid step and stumbled.

He wasn’t a coward.

But maybe it would be… untrue of him to conduct this meeting.

It was doubtful that he would find who he was seeking, though.

And it was important that he knew what was happening in the areas by their base, even if it was a wrecked building on the outskirts of captured but unused land. Villagers had reported sightings of a odd person with a heavy aura of magic, so even if it was the wrong target, he should at least investigate the possible threat.

He turned back and touched the fibers, finding them to be smooth with the barest amount of stick, but otherwise unexceptional. Brushing aside a handful of strands coating what was left of an altar, he sat down to wait, his grip on his pistol slackening as he let his hands rest against the cracked surface.

Several minutes later, he heard faint footsteps. He slipped back to his feet and raised his gun with one hand, pointing just below where he expected the new arrival’s chest to be.

When he saw the person, with a face he knew but darker and much longer hair, and a body more feminine than he remembered it being, he found that he was too struck by a foreign feeling to be confused. He wasn’t sure if his heart rose or sank, nor did he know which was the right answer. Despite being the one who had prepared to see another person, he didn’t manage to speak first.

“Oh, uh. Hi, Doublelift.”

Doublelift shook off his disappointment and grinned. “Yo. Sorry for the intrusion. I heard rumours that a strange person I’m trying to find was here. You’re strange and a person, but not the right one.”

“Uh. It’s cool.”

“You’re Meteos, right? You look kinda… different. Not that I knew you very well, but…”

The edges of Meteos’ body rippled, intensifying until he seemed to be an oozing glob of matter, then reformed into the body of a large hamster with very pointy teeth. “I don’t know what you mean.” His voice came out squeaky, prompting a laugh.

“You didn’t use to be able to do that, did you?”

“Nah. I mean, I used to be able to do it a bit. Not as well as I can now, though.”

He blinked as Meteos returned to a form that much better resembled what he remembered of him. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Dunno. Nothing much. I’m not really feeling the urge to join a faction to help them fight. I’m just setting up some safe places to be for when war starts. I’m not spying for anyone or anything. How about you?”

“You know you’re on our grounds, right?”

Meteos scratched the back of his head, but despite the gesture, he didn’t look at all sheepish. “Sorry about that. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind since it’s way out in the boonies and stuff. I can, uh, go, if you want.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Why aren’t you with C9, though?”

“I… wasn’t feeling it.”

Doublelift raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. I get it. Are you sure you don’t want a safe place to stay? I’m sure you could do a few simple things for us that would make you useful enough to warrant TSM’s protection.”

Meteos returned Doublelift’s look, but with none of the carefree looseness. “No thanks.”

“Sorry, dude. I’ll come around every now and then to check up on you.”

Meteos’ entire body seemed to melt away at that, and Doublelift wasn’t entirely sure if he saw an oozing end of a tail whip away around a corner. “Anyways,” he called out, to no direction in particular, “I hope you can still hear me, because I’m going to trust you to keep your word.”

After counting a few moments of ill-defined time in his head, he got up to leave. He trusted Biofrost to keep watch over their base wholeheartedly, but he always seemed just a touch more delicate, even if he probably wasn’t. He enjoyed it, though. It was a bit of a false pretense, but it allowed him to feign concern and then offer to train together.

Biofrost was more of a protective fighter than anything, but he was proficient enough with firearms after how much he had been taught. Doublelift doubted that he could best any real gunslingers, especially not those who fought in factions, but he also had his magic, and he was more than good enough to defend himself.

Grinning again, for better reasons, he began heading home.

* * *

 

Jensen slowly strode down from the peak of High Silvermere. He had to find Contractz, who had left him to roam while he mapped out the city and all of its ins and outs, and then they would go back to the Freljords together. He hadn’t been able to see nearly as much of Runeterra as he had wanted to, only having time to see the edges of Noxus, Mount Targon, and finally, Demacia. It had been interesting. He wished he had done more while he could, but he had no time for regrets, even less for meaningless ones. It was supposed to be a scouting mission, globe-trotting vacation, anyways. He had to be a perfect soldier for C9.

Someone called, “Hey,” from beside him, and he turned to see if he was the recipient of the greeting or if it was someone else. Eye contact confirmed that it was indeed himself.

“Yes?”

“I recognise you. Have we met before?”

Jensen stopped walking abruptly and stared at him. Outside of numerous common features like his thin build and blonde hair, he didn’t look at all familiar. But, he felt familiar. As he lingered on sensation of magic rolling off of him, though, he wondered if familiar was the right descriptor. Strange, he decided, was more fitting, albeit generic and all-encompassing. Something was fumbling with his memories but unable to bring up any real recollections. Still, it drew his interest in a way that nothing had before. There was something here that was beyond what he could know. But he had to. He was certain, absolutely certain, that once he understood this, all his answers would be laid bare.

“No. I don’t think so,” he said curtly.

“I’ve seen you before.” He sounded more confused than insistent, but he reached out for Jensen’s arm and pulled him towards the cliff face so that they were no longer in the center of the path.

Jensen stepped around the stranger and leant against a barren tree trunk. “What do you want?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and brought a hand to his temple. “I don’t know.”

His response was an impassive stare, held long enough to prompt more to be spoken:

“Are you absolutely sure that this is the first time we’ve talked?”

“Yeah.”

“I... see. I’m sorry for wasting your time, then. I’ll stop bothering you now.”

“Wait, what- who are you?”

He looked away, the edges of his lips tensed but quirked upwards. “We’ll meet again. Things aren’t put in place yet. Don’t forget me.” He blinked and recoiled suddenly, and quickly glanced back up the slope, like there was something there when there wasn’t really. “We’ll finish another time. I can’t keep talking to you right now.” He turned swiftly and darted around a corner.

“Hold on!” Jensen called, and chased after him, but the alcove that the stranger had disappeared into was empty. He stumbled back to the main path, steadied himself, and then, measuring every stride, returned to the base of High Silvermere looking as normal as he would on any other day.

* * *

 

Impact opened his eyes again and found himself staring into Ray’s, wide and curious.

“There was nothing. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“That makes me worry. You say there would always be equal fighting. If there is none in the spirit realm, then war is almost beginning.”

Impact hummed, before replying good-naturedly with, “But it is easier to fight on only one battlefield than two. And we already knew and are prepared. I believe the gods will let us rest after they are done having fun.”

“If you think so. How many realms do you think there are? Why can gods not make more and leave us alone?”

“There are lots, but I only know three. Ours, spirit, and the gods’. Maybe they cannot make more.”

“Okay."

There was a silence between them, until Ray mumbled, "I’m nervous.”

Impact didn't quite smile. “It’s fine. It’s normal.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Light a man a fire and he’ll be warm for a day, light a man on fire and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life,” Balls said frankly, his eyes as wide as moons. “That’s my new motto.”

“Uh. Nice greeting.”

“Here’s your new gun, give me your old one.”

Sneaky reached into his bundled-up cloak to to retrieve his shotgun and traded it for the rifle. “How often do the pieces actually fit in your other weapons?”

Balls eyed him “Sometimes. Anyways, you can use your usual ammo in the default setting, but you can toggle this” - he reached out and flicked the aforementioned part - “to switch to military standard. No unconventional bullets this time.”

“Dang, no Yordle dart-gunning for me this time. Thanks, though. Is Jensen’s gear done, too, or no?”

“I need a bit longer. Maybe a couple weeks. Hextech is too weird for me. I think I might be onto something, but it only worked one time and I have no idea why. Why it worked, I mean.”

Sneaky blinked. “Okay. Uh, I don’t think we’ll be able to come and get it, then. Because I’ll be at the Institute, I mean. And everyone else is going to be going mad trying to prep. Do you think you could deliver…?”

“...I dunno,” Balls said awkwardly. “Just try and swing by, whenever you can. I don’t think Hai would be very happy if I left.”

“Huh. I guess it’s fine, if you really can’t. We can try to stall out some time before we get into the thick of things, then. I’ll get someone to come pick it up as soon as they can. You sure you’ll be done in seven days?”

“Probably. It’s not like I have to sleep or anything.”

“How long, then? No rush, sorry.”

“Actually, I was just kidding about that.” A tiny grin appeared on his face. “It’ll be done in an hour or so. My future self will figure out time travel before he figures out how to make a device that activates and can contain the stupid crystal.”

“...Was that also a joke?”

“Hopefully.”

“Alright. Well, that sucks, but don’t overdo it. It’s fine if you’re not done when we visit again; that stuff’s not vital.” Sneaky paused, and then continued when Balls didn’t say anything. “I’m gonna go say hi to Hai and Lemon now, want to come? We can hang out for a bit.”

“No, I should really keep working on this.” He pointed over his shoulder to indicate a tangle of wires. “I want to be disappointed sooner rather than later when I realise that nothing I did is going to help.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll leave you to your misery,” he said, grinning, and moved towards the door. He had his hand on the knob, but before he opened it, he turned around. “Seriously though, thanks, man. I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now if it weren’t for your help.”

“No problem,” Balls replied. “Try to stop doing stupid things.”

“I’ll try, but the urge is just too strong sometimes. Anyways, be seeing you, Balls.”

He stepped outside with a final wave and closed the door behind him. The click of the lock was just a fraction of a second late, and the tiny gap of silence where there should have been sound made him smile. Suddenly, he felt compelled to get some sweets to bring when he visited the others, so he took the scenic route in hopes of finding something nice.

After a few minutes’ worth of wandering, without finding anything special, he decided to go for a patisserie at the Bridgewalts that he had been to before and knew was good. He bought an assortment of pastries and desserts, packaged in a box with a small bow that he found charmingly cute, and made a beeline towards C9’s main Piltover establishment.

When he arrived, he immediately went and punched in the key code, but instead of the familiar ping that indicated that the door had been unlocked, he heard a shrill but muffled screech begin from inside. He snickered at himself, this was far from the first time he had made a mistake entering the combination, and he got chewed out on it every time (good-humouredly; everyone who was allowed entry had messed up once at least thanks to the exceptional length of the password). The entire power system of the building would have to be reset in order to bring the lock back to a “ready” state, and according to Balls and Hai, it was a pain to do.

A few seconds later, the wailing stopped and the door swung open to reveal Hai, complete with a well-practiced smirk.

“Dude, the alarm actually freaked us out a bit.”

“You thought there was a burglar coming for you?”

Hai laughed. “You say that like it’s a joke, but your name points to you being a master-tier thief.”

“Sneaky sneaky,” he quoted, trailing on the first “S” and adding a comical lilt afterwards.

“Seriously, though, Lemon is disarming our death traps right now. If I were a bit slower, you’d be being melted by lasers. The only reason I’m not on your back for blowing the alarm is because we changed the combination and I guess nobody remembered to tell you.”

“Reassuring. Why?”

“The psycho serial killer is rampaging across Zaun again. Apparently he showed up yesterday and murdered a couple and some kid who went off to play on his own.”

“You know for sure it’s him? I thought he didn’t have a signature killing style.”

“It has to be.” Hai looked away and brushed a tuft of hair back. It fell back immediately, but he didn’t try to get it out of the way again. “Actually, I don’t think we ever told you guys, but Balls was trying to figure out where he got his ammo and he couldn’t find anything. It’s unique to him; the bullet is his branding.”

“Huh. Sorry, I don’t think I can help much. If you want, I can scout out Zaun before I go, but I’m on a pretty tight schedule.”

“It’s fine, dude. We have a ton of good leads on him. I think he’s scared of us, too, last time when we were getting close to finding him, he disappeared and then we got word of similar killings in Demacia. Moon and Altec are investigating right now. We’ll get him this time. You can leave whenever you need to, it’s more important to have everything prepared for the ceremony.”

A corner Sneaky’s lips quirked up. “You’re just saying that because you’re glad I’m going in your place.”

Hai faked a wince and held his hands up. “Guilty.”

“Oh, now I see how it is,” Sneaky said in mock offence. “Acting like you’re too old to be on the frontlines and retiring to a lovely, safe city to wait until the war is full blown so you join in without having to do anything boring.”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m only good at fighting or anything! You must have heard of Hai, the master tactician.”

“The master tactician of avoiding ceremonies and diplomacy, yes,” he said drily. “You know how much I hate doing this but you just can’t be bothered to discuss your own plans.”

“If you don’t want me to prepare strategies for you, I’m cool with that. I’ll take the full retirement package anyways, though.”

Sneaky sighed, accepting his defeat. “Right. Are you going to let me in? I brought food.”

“I was waiting for you to walk through the doorframe!” And then, after eyeing the box Sneaky was carrying for a second, he added pointedly, “There had better be egg tarts in there. It’s not too late for me to get Lemon to leave a few flamethrowers on, and I was planning to have barbecue for dinner tonight.”

“I for one, would not like to eat myself. That’s like cannibalism, but weird.”

Hai shot him a look and laughed loudly. “Get in here, dumbass. I want my egg tarts.”

* * *

 

“Holy shit he’s back tomorrow?!” Contractz screeched. “Jensen, you fucking screwed me with your extended vacationing.”

“Dude,” Smoothie said, “I told you to start prepping your data during the trip.”

“I wasn’t the one who made us take detours everywhere we went!” he wailed, then shoved his armload of maps and notebooks at Jensen’s face. “You had better help me get this stuff done.”

“It’s not like I know how to do any of that stuff,” he whined in return. “You’re good, pull an all-nighter and you’ll be done in no time.”

“This guy. ‘Yeah, just do a week’s worth of work in a day. It’ll be fine.’ What a god.”

“I told you, I don’t know how to map and code stuff!”

Contractz moved to throw his arms up, but stopped himself just in time to prevent his entire load of items from going flying. “You could at least be sympathetic! Or help a little!”

Jensen cackled, prompting laughs from Smoothie and Contractz as well, despite the rather real problem at hand.

And then, he walked out of the room.

Contractz’ mirth immediately vanished as he yelped, “Hey!” and chased after Jensen, dropping on of his travel logs in the process. Before he reached the door, though, his dropped book thunked against the back of his head. He whipped around, unable to keep himself from grinning. “Smoothie!”

“The more time you spend messing around the less you have to use.” He bent down to pick up the notebook and put it on the top of Contractz’ stack, rather heavily. “Get on it.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going. You had better get Jensen to come and do the organisational work.”

“Just dump the stuff you want him to do in his room, he’ll get the idea.”

“I hate you all.”

* * *

 

Jensen walked into the dining hall, looking haggard and irritated. He all but fell into his seat, sitting down hard enough to rattle the entire table before popping back up just as quickly, mouth agape.

“Sneaky!”

“Yo.” He held up a hand in greeting, the other marking the spot he had reached in the documents he was reading.

“Oh, shit, you’re back already. Forgot I told everyone to not disturb me, I must have missed all the meals. How much time do I have before you’re leaving again?”

Sneaky seemed confused at the disjointed series of statements, but managed to answer without an overly concerned tone: “Tomorrow morning, probably? I’m pretty sure I can stay until the late afternoon without being late, though.”

“Oh, sweet, extra six hou-” Jensen glanced away suddenly, realising his mistake. “You’re going to be gone again so soon?”

“Did you miss me?”

Jensen sighed, thinking that Sneaky was going to be tactful and ignore his first remark-

“I would be touched if you did, but I’ve already been told about how you and Contractz are immensely behind.”

“Screw Smoothie.”

“He’s a lovely gentleman, isn’t he?

Jensen finally reached for the banana he had come for, aggressively tearing down the peel. “I blame Contractz. He messed up our scheduling and then he dumped everything on me.” He I swear to god, I’m doing more of his work than he is.”

Sneaky glanced at the label on the notebook in Jensen’s lap, and leaned in, snickering. “Spell strength charts. I bet that has everything to do with mapping and terrain and nothing to do with magic and fighting. Totally Contractz’ job.”

“Yeah, like he doesn’t know cancellation numbers and can’t reorganise known sets of data.”

He snorted. “Dude, you must be allergic to paperwork or something. Am I going to find you complaining about having to do descriptions of yourself next?”

Jensen blinked, innocently enough that Sneaky couldn’t tell if he was faking it or not. “Why would be ever need that?”

“...I was kidding?”

“That was the joke.”

“Oh. I guess I’m numbed to most jokes after seeing how slow you are at doing this stuff.” He pointed at the notebook in a good-humoured challenge.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve done more than I have than you have in your entire life only counting last night.”

“Sounds like torture. Anyways, how much have you _not_ done?”

Jensen groaned and rocked his chair back so that it was wobbling on two legs, managing to hold it for a good couple of seconds before it tilted back to its original position, the momentum allowing him to collapse over the table.

“Well,” Sneaky said cheerily, “I guess I’ll have to go see for myself.” He clapped shut what he was reading through and rose from his seat.

Knowing that the acute sound of the binder’s protective pages tapping together was meant to tease him, Jensen tried very hard (and failed even harder) to not be annoyed. Sneaky’s cackle of a laugh, though, was too much, and he hastily stumbled after him.

Because of Sneaky’s head start, and his slower pace, by the time Jensen reached his room, Sneaky was already admiring the stacks of folders strewn across his desk and the floor. He picked his way around the mess. “In my defense, a lot of the stuff is actually done and I just never bothered to put it away.”

“Well… I guess that makes it better?”

“Yeah. Oh, by the way,” Jensen said suddenly, “is Balls done tinkering with my crystal yet?”

“The hextech crystal? No, not yet, he’s not the greatest with hexal and he was trying to finish the more common weapons first. I’m planning to go and pick it up after the conferences and ceremonies, Balls said he needed two more weeks when I was picking up the other weaponry, so the timing should match up.”

“Cool. Actually, um.” Jensen seemed a bit uncomfortable, his speech coming out more quickly. “Can I go with you? To test to see if whatever Balls made works. Just in case it functions on a person-to-person basis.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sneaky said, casually. “I was going to ask you to come with me anyways, so that you can finish my conference notes on the way there.”

“Nevermind, I think I’m too busy,” Jensen said, his comically lazy tone and subsequent laughter clarifying that it was a joke. After a second’s worth of sobering, he continued: “You think the others can hold the fortress if we get attacked early?”

‘It’ll be fine. We’ve got the Frostguard Citadel as a decoy that’ll lead them away from us, and navigating this place is slow unless you know the best pathing. If anything, I’m worried about us running into trouble on the way back, but the Freljord is big and empty so that’s doubtful, especially if we use a stealth route. Actually, that’s more reason for us to go together, and I’m planning on negotiating alliances with the other Northern factions anyways since we’re probably not strong enough to fight them right now.”

“I see. I figured it’d be something like that.” Jensen, who had been flipping through old records trying to figure out the rank of a spell with varying effects, threw down his pen down. “I give up. I don’t think my fingers have joints anymore.”

“Baseline 240, small area of effect, unblockable,” Sneaky said smugly. “Write down all the common variations in the back and add a note directing to it.”

“If you’re so good at this, you do it.” Still, he did as he was instructed to, and reluctantly moved onto the next spell on his list.

“It’s better for you to do it. I already have most of it memorised, you should learn it too. I’m pretty sure the only reason we decided to have you or Contractz to make a new one instead of adding into an older version was so that you guys could start getting used to analysing magic quickly.”

“I don’t need to analyse their magic to know that mine is better and can block it all!”

“Clearly, you need to figure out what “unblockable” means.”

Jensen, in full understanding that his best response was no response at all, sighed tragically and said, “Yeah, that’s the other name for my dick.”

“I don’t know if you outplayed me or if I just outplayed myself.”

“Neither. Or both, I don’t know.” Jensen turned back to his work, expecting that Sneaky would start a discussion on another topic, but after a moment of lull in their conversation, he remembered a question he had been meaning to ask but hadn’t yet gotten a chance to. “Uh, so, what’s the Institute like? I saw the outside when I was travelling with Contractz, but we weren’t allowed to enter. I thought it would be more impressive, to be honest.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty… Unassuming, I guess? Like, it’s not in shambles like our base is, but the exterior is bland. The inside is honestly indescribable, though. It’s not interesting physically, there’s just this conference room, and then a ton of random storage and prayer rooms in the back, and there’s a lot of standard church-y statues and stuff, but there’s also a ton of hexal devices and all. The feeling I get in there isn’t really the same as anything else, I’ll show you around after the ceremonies, you’ll understand. There’s just something about it. It’s special. It emits this… aura.” Recognising his inability to say what he wanted to, Sneaky trailed off and looked at Jensen hopefully. “You know, kind of like when…” He looked at his hands, and their wild motions slowed upon his realisation of his unconscious gesturing. “You get it, right?”

“Please, be more vague. If you manage to, you’ll break the laws of the universe and tear apart reality, and then maybe I’ll understand.”

Sneaky snorted. “Hm, there was a sketch of it in Hai’s notes. It’s not an accurate floor plan, but it definitely shows the… aura. I’m not sure if it’ll make as much sense to you since you haven’t actually seen it in person, but I was talking to Impact earlier and he agreed with me that it hits the mark precisely.” He reached behind his back, feeling for a bag that wasn’t there. “Right, I dumped everything in my room. I’ll be right back.” He jogged out.

The seriousness urging him to have similar focus, Jensen clipped his pen onto the page of the notebook he was on and set it aside. He closed his eyes, trying to understand what Sneaky had been failing to describe. There was swelling and receding of magic, the air that pricked his skin like they were droplets when he focussed hard on it, empty darkness that made his entire body feel like it was drifting and then plummeting, silence that rung and multiplied the volume of his own heart tenfold. None of it was right and he knew it.

He stopped as soon as he heard returning footsteps. “Welcome back,” he said, turning on his seat so that he was sitting sideways and facing Sneaky.

In return, he gave a cursory smile, and handed Jensen a piece of paper with a simple diagram marred by several fold lines.

“Does this make any sense to you?”

“Hold on,” Jensen replied, slowly, his eyes fixated on the image. He pulled open one of the drawers in his desk and took out a map. He frowned, looking back and forth between the two. “Yeah, I think I got it. The lower box is the conference room and the upper is everything else. The triangles are the side doors, and I guess they’re supposed to be pointing, like you enter through the left and exit right? And it feels like the scribbly lines are supposed to be represent a wall, to another realm. I mean, gates. Gates to another realm. All the squares are probably just supposed to be a lazy drawing of the other rooms. Although they’re in between two squiggly lines, so maybe it’s something more but I don’t know.” His head jerked up suddenly. “Sorry, I’m getting a bit too into this, I’m rambling.” He inhaled deeply.

Sneaky was silent, watching Jensen as he caught his breath. Perfectly toneless, he said, “Go on.”

Jensen recoiled at the intensity, not expecting any of it. “Uh, I dunno. I really got nothing for the circle. There’s nothing else there that’s important, is there?”

“That’s fine,” Sneaky said, but he sounded disappointed. “When you see it, you’ll know everything you said was correct. Almost. But there’s this feeling you get at the core of your soul when you walk by certain points of the building. You’ll see.” He stopped and stared at Jensen, wondering if he should say more. The thirst in the face he saw gave him his answer. “I wasn’t really expecting you to be able to understand it without me explaining anything. I thought it would help you to… fathom it, if I described it, but for you to get it that easily, I think you must have seen it before.”

Jensen’s eyes flashed in understanding. “Is that really what you think?”

Sneaky nodded, eyes losing focus as he thought. “You got the directions wrong, though. The circle is a statue; it faces the entrance. Right and left are based on the statue’s positioning, but your idea of entering through one door and leaving through the other is correct.”

“I guess I must have been there during the sixth war.”

“Huh? Yeah. Wait, no. You could have gone outside of the meeting days. It’s usually left open.”

“Oh.”

Sneaky glanced at Jensen. “I’ll…” He stopped entirely for several seconds biting his tongue as he tried to figure out what was best to say. “Stew for a bit, but don’t… overthink yourself. I’ll look into some records to see if I can find anything.”

He turned to leave, but when he was halfway to the door, he heard a creak as Jensen stood. He looked back to see him dragging his rucksack out from a pile of clothing, already throwing in things he knew he would need. With a small part of his worry eased, Sneaky said, steadily, “Let’s leave at nine in the morning tomorrow. It’ll let us arrive in the afternoon instead of at night, so we’ll get some time to explore.”

He left too quickly to see Jensen’s face slip into a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

As expected, they arrived early, and after paying for a room at an inn, they put their things down and went to wander the city, Instinctively, they both headed for the Institute of War, their conversation on the way there amounting to little more than small comments about the numerous street attractions and half-hearted replies without enough substance to keep the dialogue going.

When they reached it, Sneaky looked to Jensen expectantly.

In response, he said, “Uh. It’s the same as it was before. Dunno what I was expecting, but this probably should have been it.”

Awkwardly, Sneaky grabbed his hand and tugged him back. “We passed a bunch of street theatres, there’s probably quite a few to choose from if you don’t mind backtracking. Not much else to do with our time, anyways.”

Jensen, without any hint of mirth, squinted at Sneaky. “Weren’t all of those puppet shows for kids?”

Sneaky shrugged and smiled. “They’re still pretty good sometimes, and it’s easy to just stop at the side of the road for them. Plus, they’re free; the groups use them as advertising, they make most of their money through their larger stage performances.”

“...Yeah, but… Doesn’t that mean that they’re going to have to be half hearted and cheaply made? I mean, Contractz forced me to watch one with him, and it wasn’t bad or anything, but it’s definitely not something I would have paid money for.”

“Oh, it was the superhero one, right? Actually, I kinda want to see that one. Or the continuation of it, I guess. It sounded pretty good, but I don’t think they’re performing it anymore and the ticket prices I saw for the second one were pretty expensive. I guess it’s expected though, since it got so much success.”

“It wasn’t good!” Jensen said loudly, hands waving. “It’s literally just this kid without superpowers getting superpowers and punching shit.”

As entered a busy hub, Sneaky let his focus wander away from Jensen and towards the road, afraid of bumping into anyone. His tone exaggerating to compensate for the lack of eye contact, he said, sly and pompous, “I know you’re not the most… refined person, but Contractz was actually explaining a lot of intricate detail that I suppose you didn’t hear him ranting and screaming praises to.”

“I might have listened, but after sitting and being bored for, what was it, six hours? I really was too mad to not zone him out for the rest of the trip. Actually, I’d still rather pretend that he doesn’t exist.”

“Six, huh? That’s a lot for a small show, but most of the paid ones are performed over several days.” He smacked his hand onto Jensen’s shoulder. “We should get seats to something. I remember a few years ago, Hai and I tried to stay for the entirety of this really massive retelling of an old one, it was fantastic all the way through. And then Lemon forced us to leave like two acts before the end and now we’ll never know what happens. Hai still says it’s his favourite, though, and he pretty much comes here to watch as much as he can as often as he can.”

Jensen groaned. “Please no. It’s a complete waste of money, and that’s not even considering all the time we’d lose.”

“Aw, just a short one, then?”

“I’ll see you back at the fortress. Have fun being alone.”

“No don’t leave me.”

With a cringe, Jensen turned and began to walk the other way, but the effect was immediately ruined when he collided with a middle aged, balding man who recoiled on impact but was jovial when he said, “Sneaky! It’s been a while. And you’re… Hakuho? ...No.” He paused, trying to put a name on the face he knew he had seen before. “Jensen. You’re supposed to be a big deal, you know.”

“Uh.” Jensen averted his gaze. “Thanks, I guess.”

Sneaky glanced at him from the corner of his eye and snatched his hand. Smoothly, he said, “See you at the ceremony, Phreak.” With a small wave backwards, he proceeded along the path, walking towards a crowd and tugging Jensen along through it.

They continued for a bit, unwilling to converse about anything with any level of importance amidst so many people. Unlike what they had originally planned, they returned to their lodging without stopping for any kind of tourist attraction, the notion again obvious enough to both of them to understand without speaking.

* * *

 

They shut the door behind them with a certain firm tension that was bolstered by the swift click of the door locking. There was a brief moment of silence as they waited for each other to talk, their breaths reverberating.

Sneaky let out of puff of air in preparation. “That was one of the missionaries from the Institute of War. He’s been around for a long time, I think, and I’m pretty sure we can trust any apostles, but just to be safe, y’know? And it was kinda… iffy of him to say anything about you, you’re supposed to be a secret and all. I mean, slip-ups happen and stuff so who knows.”

“Wait, how come he has stuff on me, though? Was there a registration that I never got told about?”

He shook his head in response. “There’s never been anything like that. It had to have been the summoners. They know everything, so they always make sure their servants know everything important.”

“That’s disconcerting.”

Sneaky shrugged dispassionately. “It’s kinda weird, but you get used to the idea. I mean, they’re supposedly the reason we even fight, ever, so…”

“I thought that was just one of the theories. Impact is entirely convinced that fighting is supposed to help keep the balance between here and his reverse world thing.” His words were accompanied by a stare without the malice to be considered a glare, but with more than enough intensity.

Pulling his fingers through his too-long hair and looking very much like he didn’t want to get into the debate Jensen was pushing at, Sneaky replied, “It’s probably some of both. Summoners are gods to us. I’m not saying Impact is wrong, but bad things happen when we don’t do what the summoners tell us to and there’s actual proof that we’re shown during every ceremony, apparently.” As he spoke, he walked towards the bed closer to the wall, the one they had decided was his, and sat down.

Jensen flopped over on his bed, sighing. “You’re always so vague and passive. Doesn’t this… matter, or hold any interest to you?”

“I’m a soldier and I fight. I’ve never questioned it and I’ve been doi-”

Jensen jerked up, suddenly enough to startle Sneaky, whose posture stiffened in surprise. “Hey, do you think it’s possible to come in contact with a summoner? And talk to them? If the summoners tell things to the people who work for them, then there has to be a way, right?”

He relaxed again, slumping and seeming distracted and bored. “Not really.”

“Come on,” Jensen groaned, “can’t you at least try a bit harder?”

Sneaky smiled slightly, the expression appearing lackadaisical.

“This is the entirely wrong time to be making that face. I dare you to hold it all the way until the ceremonies and conferences are over.”

Somehow, he managed to shift his features to make them even goofier.

“What are you doing.”

A cackle bubbled up from Sneaky, and through a gap in the giggles, he said, “My best.”

Jensen crossed his forearms over his face, muttering, “You’re not half as funny as you think you are.”

“We all know how hard you’re laughing on the inside.” When he looked over, though, Sneaky frowned. Jensen seemed legitimately frustrated.

“How can you not care? Aren’t the wars a big deal?”

“Well, I… Hm.” Sneaky took a moment to think, filling the extended silence with a hum so that it didn’t become too quiet. “It doesn’t feel too… special. I’ve been doing this for a while and I mean, it’s still kinda scary and all and I know I have to take it seriously or I’ll probably die, but I guess I’m just used to it by now. I’ve taken enough blades and bullets to be unfazed when one barely misses. It only hurts if it hits, y’know?”

Jensen glared. “Dude, that’s not even what I was talking about.”

“...It’s close enough,” he replied. “I don’t feel any intensity towards it. Same applies.”

His snide reply frozen in his throat from the dullness of Sneaky’s voice. He sounded more bored than unhappy, really, but it was still a far cry from the absolutely careless nonchalance moments ago.

And, in all honesty, Jensen could hear the subtext after getting confirmation that Sneaky had meant exactly what he said. _You’re going to fight until you can’t. There’s no other destiny._ He groaned and flipped the covering of his bed over himself, curling into it slightly.

“Hiding your boner?” Sneaky snorted, “Don’t be embarrassed, everyone gets like that around my sexy voice.”

“Fuck you too.” He rolled over several times so that he was wrapped fully, face against the mattress. “Whatever. I’ll just go with you tomorrow to check it out for myself.”

“No, you’re not,” Sneaky said quickly. “You have to wait until the conferencing and ceremonies are finished.”

If it was possible for him to move in a way to show his displeasure more, he would have, but already being constrained by a tough bedsheet with his arms accidentally pinned to his sides, all Jensen could do was huff out a breath. “How long will that take?”

“One to three days, depending on what the guys hosting the ceremonies want. And it depends on how talkative the other representatives are feeling. Sometimes nobody wants to discuss anything and other time people want to ally with literally everyone else. The big debates with everyone are quick but then there are like a gajillion mini private deals that go on and we have wait for everyone to be done.”

The sound from inside the human-shaped swath of cloth sounded vaguely like a chicken being strangled, to which Sneaky replied, “Apparently, there’s stuff going down with TSM and they might be weaker than they were before, and DIG and IMT should be strong. It’s honestly been too quiet this year to really have much of a clue though, and I doubt it means much to you since you don’t have a reference point for their strength.”

“...Allies?”

“Uh, I know there’s uncertainty about TSM, but we’ve always allied with them in the past, and they’re usually pretty good, so I think we’re going to have faith in them, although they’re also pretty tight with TL and they might not want to deal with both of us because we haven’t gotten along as well. “It’ll be fine, we have a good location defensively so we can wait it out if it comes to that.”

“Hnng. Gonna go with you tomorrow, can’t wait that long.”

Sneaky raised an eyebrow at Jensen before realising that he couldn’t see it. He didn’t bother to form any other response. He glanced at the clock hanging over the table and upon seeing that it was just short of the time they usually ate dinner at, he pushed himself off of his bed, stood still for a moment, and then left to buy them some food, knowing full well that Jensen wasn’t going to be changing positions (much less getting up) for a while.

He didn’t bother going far, quickly locating the closest food stall and buying two containers of stew and rice to bring back to their room. When he was at the entrance to the inn, though, he had a sudden realisation followed by a sudden decision and he turned on his heel, returning to the streets of the town in search of non-perishable rations.

* * *

 

When he finally did make it back to his and Jensen’s room, he was holding the portions of rice and meat in his hands, with some bread, meat, and fruit (not the long-lasting survival items he had been looking for, but they served his purpose well enough).

“Hey,” he called, “Are you going to get out of there to eat, at least? I could spoon-feed you, but then the gravy would go everywhere.”

Jensen squirmed his way off of the bed, still wrapped in the sheets. He hit the ground harder than he had been planning to, but after a brief period of wiggling, he managed to untangle himself. WIth more effort than was usually associated with taking three steps and then sitting down to eat, he slumped into the chair.

“Did you actually manage to take a nap while I was out? You don’t look awake at all.”

“I was thinking really hard about stuff and then I woke up all of a sudden. Not sure where the falling asleep part happened but it probably did,” Jensen mumbled.

Sneaky shrugged, still chewing.

“You’re always loud and quiet at the wrong times. Where’d all your impulsion go all of a sudden?”

Promptly, he took a spoonful of rice and stuck it into his mouth.

Jensen waited.

The spoon stayed and his line of sight was pointedly not directed at Jensen.

Wholly tired of Sneaky, he sighed, dramatically heavily, and started to eat. It took until Jensen was almost finished eating for Sneaky to break his facade and grin at Jensen.

“Were you seriously messing with me this entire time.”

“I was hoping you’d get a bit more aggravated, to be honest.”

“What a legend. Talks about how he’s going to take things seriously and then half an hour later he’s screwing with me for the sake of screwing with me.”

“It’s not like I’m not trying,” he whined, “it just doesn’t make sense to be all stiff and uptight when there’s no need to be.”

“This isn’t even worth my time.”

Jensen got up, slouching again, and began stumbling back to his bed. Hearing another chair squeak against the floor behind him, and eerie silence for a second afterwards, his shoulders tensed, prepared to be the victim of a tackling hug.

The blow came to the back of his head instead, barely registering as a sharp, skilled strike from some hard object before he blacked out.

* * *

At the very least, Sneaky was grateful that the pointless traditional displays were kept to a minimum this time. Nothing ever came out of them, and the only ones who even saw the ceremonies were the representatives from each faction and the missionaries present at the Institute of War.

It was unfortunate, then, that his good mood was absolutely destroyed by a lengthy, unproductive panic because out of the ten people who were supposed to show up, only nine did. The last seat was apparently held by “FQ”, and other than that, the clergy refused to give more information. So, only after a few hours of confusion, hysteria, and baseless theorycrafting did the group talks really start, and as always, there was next to no information offered. He understood the reasoning that revealing anything to everyone would be stupid and any misdirection would be far too obvious to work, but the amount of time with which they spent dancing around each other was not at all logical.

He didn’t say much; it was neither in him nor C9 in any of its history. Even Hai, who was both articulate and outspoken, hadn’t been one to participate in the early stages of the conferencing.

Despite his disdain, though, he found himself enraptured.

The people sent were expected and standard. Old, famous names: Aphromoo, LirA, Piglet — and then, the exception who everyone’s eyes were on: Hauntzer.

He wasn’t unknown by any means, but Sneaky doubted that anyone had expected anyone other than Bjergsen to be sitting in TSM’s seat. Even if they had some strategy or specific reason that was keeping their face occupied, it really was a surprise that Doublelift wasn’t the second in command.

Although, Hauntzer didn’t do a poor job at all. Perhaps not too vocal and a bit unsure, but he hadn’t done anything Sneaky would have considered a major mistake.

As soon as they were allowed to begin speaking to each other privately, half of the room tried to wave Hauntzer over, although Sneaky was unsure whether the motivations were predatory or just curiosity.

He was approached by Arrow, though, and accepted to the invitation to talk about an alliance in one of the soundproofed rooms.

From what he was hearing, they really, _really_ wanted to be at least friendly with C9. The point didn’t seem to be so much about supporting each other as it was that they wouldn’t be attacked. Despite the newness and the lack of information regarding to P1 leading to risk being associated with working with them, Sneaky agreed fairly easily. Ionia was far enough from the Freljord to prevent too many actual interactions between them, and they weren’t asking for much, either. Non-aggression wasn’t a big deal, and they hadn’t promised any real help towards each other. If anything, what made Sneaky nervous was how Arrow had felt a need to establish something that was essentially already decided by the geography of Valoran.

They shook on their agreement and returned back to the central room. Leaning against the table they had all been sitting around a short while ago, Sneaky watched people return in pairs, noting them to himself without placing too much emphasis on it. Just a few steps behind a disgruntled-looking Hauntzer and Ssumday, there was Aphromoo, the person he had been waiting for. As soon as they made eye contact, they both nodded and Sneaky jogged up while he waited.

They really didn’t need the privacy. It was always the same agreement between CLG and C9, and everyone knew it. They helped each other defensively and teamed up against any major threats, but C9 would refuse to interfere with anything involving TSM.

There was a certain formality that their brief meeting added, though, even if their conversations weren’t at all formal, with teasing jokes being thrown from both sides.

It didn’t take long for them both to agree that they would make the same pact as usual, but as they both stood to leave, Sneaky added, “Oh, by the way, I think I saw something you may be interested in.”

Aphromoo looked at him questioningly, prompting him to continue.

“There was a meep in the Freljord. It was a while ago, before my trip to here. Not a chime, I’m sure it was a meep. I shot it.”

He shrugged. “Whoops. I just get them to explore everywhere. Sorry if it was annoying.”

Sneaky reciprocated the gesture, his smile light. “No problem. I don’t think it’ll really matter either way.”

* * *

 

For moments, Jensen blinked groggily at the unfamiliar ceiling, wondering how much he must have overslept by before he jerked upwards upon remembering what had happened before he found himself waking up.

Rather than helping him to get up, though, his sudden motion only served to alert him that his blankets were wrapped too tightly around him and that his hands were bound beneath him, under his back. He strained against them, but the rope dug into his arms with enough firmness for him to tell that they were neither old nor weak enough to be broken with brute force.

He relaxed himself, heaving out a breath.

It was fine. There couldn’t be any danger because Sneaky wasn’t here. If he was, he would have noticed Jensen’s flailing, or if he had been asleep, he would have been woken up by the commotion. And, because he was still in the room they had rented, but he was alone, the attacker would have had to be Sneaky.

It made more sense the more he thought about it. His bindings were just tight enough to be constricting, but weren’t uncomfortable, much less painful. Only his hands were tied, the sheets were just tucked in under the mattress and could be removed by a few solid kicks. As a whole, the setup was designed to keep in in place if he woke up too soon so that he could be dealt with without any hassle. Now that he really thought about it, the only person who it could have been was Sneaky. They had been alone last night; he had been facing the door when eating and was certain nobody could have entered. Even if they were quick enough to get in and bludgeon him in only the time he had his back turned, he wasn’t the closest target so he would have heard some reaction from Sneaky.

He frowned. What reason did Sneaky have to chain him up? If he was remembering correctly, and he was sure he was, Sneaky would have to be at the Institute of War right now, with the other representatives, so… Ah. He must have been trying to keep him from being stupid and crashing their talks.

He sighed and impatiently yanked his arms again, only to have something smack onto his face seconds later.

His squawk was quickly muffled by fabric, and in between muttered death curses, he realised by the texture and the strangely cloaked lumps that it must have been a bag that fell on him. He managed to make it tumble onto the floor by craning his neck sideways several times, spat out the taste of dirty cloth, and began to shimmy up the bed until he was in a slumped sitting position against the headboard.

From there, he twisted his torso around so that he could see one of his wrists out of the corner of his eye, and he realised that he was an idiot but Sneaky was a bigger one — there wasn’t even a knot, he had apparently decided that wrapping a piece of rope over him a few times would be enough to restrain him.

Absolutely not amused, he used the bed as a surface with traction to undo the loops until there were few enough left for him to remove the rest simply by shaking at them.

Thoroughly awake and displeased, he slipped lithely to his feet and was already dressed and throwing on the hood of his cloak when he remembered the bag that had fallen on him. It was still lying on the floor, scrunched in a way that the zippers and pouches formed an upside down face that was frowning at him. He scowled back and picked it up to see what was inside.

Food.

The jackass may as well have left a note saying, “Yo, stay here and don’t do anything stupid.”

Naturally, Jensen turned around and whipped out the door immediately.

In his brashly furious haste, he would have forgotten to close the door behind him. But, he didn’t, because the moment he opened the door, he was enveloped in something sticky and promptly knocked unconscious.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry jensen


End file.
